~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Head Over Heels 
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XxXxX

Prologue

XxXxX

He carried his labor of love in a sack over his shoulder, 
hunched as he climbed over the crumbling rock of the desert.  
Animals heard his boots approach and slithered away to 
invisibility just as he reached them.  Overhead, the milky 
moon lit the path in front while the night swallowed his 
steps behind, covering the months of preparation that led to 
his solitary journey.  He thought of Mulder, hoped he would 
be the one to get the call.

"Those are my fingernails scratching down the inside of your 
ribs," he said with a grin, "and don't you forget it."

The bones at his back clattered together like drumsticks when 
he jumped down onto the dusty earth.  Another half mile would 
be sufficient, he reckoned.  This was the only part of the 
plan that bothered him, having to leave her out in the middle 
of nowhere for someone else to find.  It could be hours, 
could be weeks -- he had no way of knowing or controlling the 
outcome.  By the time they found her, he would be far away 
composing the second verse of his love letter.

At length he stopped by some brush he thought well-suited for 
his purposes.  Slipping the sack from his shoulder, he opened 
the mouth wide in front of him.  "Trick or treat!" he said 
with a chuckle.  He shook his bag of goodies until they 
rattled, the smaller bones knocking around like beads against 
the longer, hollow ones.  Then he simply turned the sack on 
end, creating a brief waterfall of human remains that fell in 
a pile at his feet.  The small skull rocked back and forth in 
the dirt for a few seconds but stopped when he touched it 
with his toe.

From inside his jacket he produced another bag, this one made 
of clear plastic, which contained the final touches for his 
missive.  What good was a letter, after all, if one did not 
address it and sign it appropriately?  He snapped on his 
gloves and withdrew the strands of red hair he'd pulled from 
her head a few days before.  

The devil is in the details, he reminded himself as he wound 
the hairs around the prickly branch. 

He scattered the remaining items with equal care, then 
stopped to survey his work.  A perfect execution, he decided 
at last.  His imagination come to life. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the signature -- two 
tiny toe bones.  They felt almost like teeth in his hand.  
"I'll just keep these, shall I?" he said to the broken woman 
on the ground.  He popped one into his mouth and walked away, 
sucking his prize like a hard candy all the way home.

XxXxX

Sam Nesbith stepped from his Explorer cruiser into the wall 
of summer heat.  He slipped open the button on his shirt 
collar and scanned the desert scene, trying to pick his 
deputy from among the half-dozen men in black.  Luke caught 
him looking and waved.

"Over here, Sheriff."

Nesbith climbed over a rocky slope and acknowledged Luke with 
a nod.  "Simmons.  What have you got for me?"

"Hikers found her this morning, sir.  Kitchner and I got the 
call, and we've been here since oh nine hundred.  Del Hoya 
and Marsh have been helping us secure the perimeter, but I 
gotta tell you, it seems like she's been here a while."

"She's over that way?" Nesbith indicated the brush thirty 
feet across the sand.

"Yes, sir.  What's left of her, at least."

Nesbith frowned and started over towards the body.  "I 
suppose it's too much to hope for any ID."

"Well, that's the thing..."

"Jesus Christ," Nesbith interrupted as he caught sight of the 
scattered bones.  "No telling how long she's been out here."  
He turned to Simmons.  "Nothing else gets touched until the 
coroner gets here, you understand?  And I don't want anyone 
else within a mile of this place. I don't care if God himself 
gave the okay."

"Right.  We're on it."  Simmons hesitated, then nodded at a 
rock a few feet away.  "You might want to see this, though."

"What is it?"

"It's a shield, sir. FBI from the looks of it."

"Shit," Nesbith muttered.  He followed Simmons over to the 
rock, where they knelt by the black leather case.  "You think 
this is from our vic, is that it?  Can't be.  That body has 
to have been out here for months, if not years, to have been 
stripped as clean as she was.  This leather is barely faded 
at all."

Simmons's face fell a bit.  "The picture shows a woman with 
red hair, and we found some red hair caught on the bush over 
there so I just assumed..."

Nesbith turned and glanced over to where the skeleton lay.  
"I've got a bad feeling about his one, Luke," he murmured.  
"Something's way off."  He shook his head and turned his 
attention back to the shield.  Pulling out a pen, he nudged 
the flap of the case open.

Dana Scully, it read. FBI.

XxXxX

Mulder remembered why he had vowed never again to set foot in 
Au Bon Pain as the two girls behind the counter ignored him 
in favor of their conversation about some absent Au Bon Pain 
worker, and whether or not said worker wore falsies her bra.  
When a third round of throat clearing failed to gain their 
attention, he leaned over the counter himself and said, "You 
know, I heard she's actually a man, and that's why she has to 
steal extra money from the tip jar to pay for her upcoming 
operation."

The girls stared at him, dumb-struck for a moment, until the 
dark-haired one with the pony tail found her tongue.  "Uh, I 
don't think so," she said with scorn.  "My brother used to go 
out with her, and he said..."

"You're absolutely right," Mulder agreed, dead-pan.  "It must 
be some other employee.  So I'll just have the grilled 
chicken sandwich then, okay?"

The pony tail girl shut her mouth with a snap and rang up his 
order.  By the time he had picked up his napkins, she was 
back gossiping with her friend again.  Could there really be 
a man hidden in their midst?  Mulder hid a smile and walked 
around the back, where he found Amelia Russell sitting at a 
table full of food.  

"Small breakfast," she said in explanation, and pulled back 
her salad, soup and sandwich to make room.

"I braved the Pod People lunch line for you, Russell.  This 
better be good."

"Let me guess," she said, sipping her drink.  "Janine and her 
breasts again."

Mulder looked up from his sandwich.  "Are you on some sort of 
stakeout duty here?  Or have they started drugging the 
croissants."

Russell smiled.  "I prefer the bagels. Oh, and for the 
record?"  She leaned across the small table towards him.  
"Janine totally stuffs."

Mulder covered his mouth in mock horror.  "She doesn't!" 

Russell shook her head and leaned back in her chair, wiping 
her fingers on her napkin.  "Seriously, Mulder, thanks for 
coming.  I'm sorry I was so cryptic on the phone."

Ah, yes, Mulder remembered.  The message so secretive that 
he'd almost expected it to self-destruct when he'd rescued it 
from voice mail.  The message that had specifically stated 
not to bring Scully.  "So what's up?" he asked, trying to 
keep his tone casual.

Russell hesitated for a beat, then pulled out a large 
envelope.  "Grenier would kill me if he knew I was talking to 
you, but I really think we could use your opinion."

"A lead?" Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck stand 
up.  Ten months evaporated in an instant, and he was running 
though the woods again, screaming Scully's name into the 
pouring rain.

"Could be.  That's what I wanted to talk to you about."  She 
paused.  "And why I thought you should come alone."

"It's..." He traced the sharp edges of the table with both 
hands, his appetite gone. "It's okay.  Scully's with her 
family in California now, anyway.  What have you got?"

"Six months ago a college girl from the University of 
Wisconsin at Madison disappeared on her way home from a 
party."  Russell drew out a stack of photos.  "Mary Horner, 
age twenty-one.  She was missing up until last week, when a 
last-ditch search party organized by her parents found her in 
the woods.  The crime lab says she'd been dead since the 
night she disappeared.  Our division flagged it when we 
learned she had been discovered fully clothed, but with her 
shoes missing."

"Toes?" Mulder asked quickly, even as he flipped through the 
pictures to see for himself.

Russell sighed.  "The little ones are still there, but the 
largest toe on her right foot had been removed, as had two 
fingers on her left hand.  Clean cuts, just like we've seen 
before."

"The ME have any guess about the weapon used to remove them?"

"Smooth blade, no serration.  Definitely not shears, though."

Mulder flinched a little at the memory of the bloody tool 
he'd seen in Carl Quentin's cabin ten months ago.  Scully.  
He fought the urge to pull out his phone and call her, just 
to hear her voice.  "What does Grenier think?" he asked at 
last.

"He thinks it might be Quentin.  We've pulled the missing 
persons reports from the Madison area for the last few 
months.  Two other young women who meet Quentin's victim 
profile have disappeared recently, though no other bodies 
have been found as of yet.  Grenier's out there investigating 
now."

"Uh-huh."  Mulder fingered the pointed corner of the photos, 
looked down at the white body in the woods.  "But you didn't 
go with him."

Russell ducked her head. "No, I...I couldn't go this time.  
It's complicated.  But I don't think Grenier's wrong to check 
into it. Mainly, I just wanted to know your opinion."

"My opinion."  He felt tired, every one of his forty years 
weighing on him as he forced himself to look at the grisly 
photos.  

My opinion, he thought, is that I wish this shit would just 
leave me the hell alone.  Every time I walk away, it comes 
back and bites me on the ass.

"Not him," he said aloud, setting the pictures down flat.

"But the profiles match, and the shoes are missing..."

"Look, you wanted my opinion, and you've got it."

Russell said nothing for a moment.  "Right," she said softly, 
collecting the photographs.  "I'm sorry.  I should never have 
asked, not after--"

"He wouldn't change the toes."

Russell seemed to consider this possibility.  "I've seen 
changes in MO before due to increasing disorganization.  Ted 
Bundy, for instance.  Look at what he did in Florida with the 
sorority house -- changing weapon, changing his pattern of 
attack.  Also, Quentin had a close call with us last year.  
He knows we're on to him now.  It could be he's altered his 
behavior to decrease his chances of capture."

Mulder shook his head.  "Altered his appearance, maybe.  But 
this is a man who spent eleven years in prison and resumed 
his killings in an *identical* fashion when he was released.  
It's all about the feet for him.  He wouldn't bother cutting 
off some fingers.  It probably would never even occur to 
him."

"Okay, fine."  Russell rubbed her eyes with one hand.  "We'll 
just have to keep looking, then."

"Hey."  He waited until she looked up.  "I could be wrong," 
he said, attempting a smile.  "I'm rusty at this, you know."

"No," she sighed.  "You're as shiny as you ever were.  But 
Grenier won't believe it until he comes to the same 
conclusion himself.  For what it's worth, I really am sorry 
to dredge this whole thing up again."

"It never really settled."

"Yeah."  She put away the envelope.  "How is Scully doing?  
Okay?"

Scully.  He thought of the endless nights he had spent with 
her after it had happened, eyes cracking from fatigue as they 
watched inane TV movies or played Gin Rummy -- anything to 
keep from talking about the elephant in the room, anything to 
keep from having to go to bed and dream her way back into the 
woods. Scully, always fine even when she was not.

It had been months now, he realized at last.  Months had 
passed since her last bout of insomnia.  These days when they 
were alone she couldn't wait to get into bed.  

"She's good," he said, smiling a little.  He decided he would 
call her when he got back to the office, already dreaming up 
a flimsy pretext she would see right through anyway.  He also 
decided not to mention his conversation with Russell.

"Tell her I said hello," Russell said as if she could read 
his mind.  

"I will."  He stood up with his half-eaten sandwich.  "And, 
uh, let me know if anything turns up."

"I will."

He turned to go, when she stopped him.  "Mulder..."

"Yeah?"

"Could you...could we maybe have dinner some time?  There's 
something else I'd like to talk to you about."

Mulder froze.  He could tell by the tone of her voice that 
the something was personal.  "I...sure.  Whenever.  Just, uh, 
just give me a call."

"It's not bad, I promise," she said. "It's just kind of a 
long story, and I don't want to get into it here."

"Sure," Mulder repeated, sounding lame to his own ears.  
"Anytime.  Just let me know."  His phone rang then, rescuing 
him from his awkwardness.  "Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, I need to see you in my office now." Skinner's 
voice had an overtone Mulder didn't recognize. 

"I'm on my way," Mulder answered.  He waved at Russell on his 
way out, and she waved back.

"Right now, Mulder," Skinner said, and this time Mulder 
caught the emotion crackling over the phone line.

Fear.

XxXxX

"What's going on?" Mulder asked as he entered the AD's 
office.  Skinner was standing behind his desk, looking grim.

"I've got Special Agent Lillian Chang on the phone from 
California," he said, gesturing toward the speaker phone.  

"Agent Mulder, hello," came the voice on the other line.

"Hi," Mulder said.  He tried to meet Skinner's eyes, but the 
other man looked away.  "What can I do for you, Agent Chang?"

"Assistant Director Skinner informs me that your partner Dana 
Scully has been vacationing here in California this week, is 
that correct?"

At the mention of Scully's name, Mulder felt his mid-section 
seize up.  "She's with family in San Diego.  Why?  What's 
wrong?"

Skinner turned away.

"Agent Mulder, can you tell me when was the last time you 
spoke with your partner?" Chang continued.

"Three days ago," Mulder answered tightly.  "Now someone 
please tell me what the hell this is all about."

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone.  
"This morning the Sheriff in Orange County found a female 
skeleton in the desert.  Nearby they found an FBI shield 
belonging to Dana Scully, so we're just trying to--"

"No," Mulder said, shaking his head and pulling out his 
phone.  "No, you're wrong!"

"Agent Mulder, please, we just want to--"

"In a minute," Skinner snapped.  He watched as Mulder put the 
phone to his ear.

"C'mon, c'mon," Mulder muttered as the ringing began.  
Halfway through the third ring, he could breathe again.

"Scully," she said, and the relief made him weak to his toes.

"Hey," he said through a grin.  "How are you?"

"Sleepy," she answered.  "Too much sun."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder saw Skinner sink into a 
chair.  He met the AD's gaze and nodded.  "But you're okay?" 
he said to Scully.  "All the flesh still on your bones and 
everything?"

"What?  Mulder, I think maybe you're the one who's been out 
in the sun too long."

"It's a mistake," he called across the room to Agent Fuckup 
on the speaker phone.  "She's fine."

"Mulder."  Scully didn't sound amused any more.  "What the 
hell is going on?"

"Rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated."

"My death?  What the hell are you talking about, Mulder?  Who 
says I'm dead?"

Agent Chang spoke before he could answer.  "I'm very glad to 
know it was a mistake," she said.  "But we still have a dead 
body here.  Please tell Agent Scully that we're going to need 
to speak with her immediately."

"It seems there was a body found today with your name on it," 
Mulder said into his phone.  He turned around, effectively 
closing off Chang and Skinner from the conversation.  "But 
it's okay.  It was a mistake."

"One in my favor, apparently.  Jesus."

"I don't know the whole story, Scully, but it sounds like 
they found your FBI ID at the scene."

"Not possible," she said flatly.  "I have it with me."

"You're sure."

"Yes, I'm sure."  He heard rustling on the other end.  "I'm 
looking at right now."

"Then someone went to a lot of trouble to make people think 
it was you in the desert."

"Yes," she agreed.  "But it wasn't me.  So who was it?"

"I don't know," he said, glancing over his shoulder to where 
Skinner was talking to Chang.  "But I think they're going to 
want your help in figuring that out."

XxXxX

End Chapter One.  Continued in chapter two.

Now with beta!  A million thanks to Alicia and Jerry for the 
spit n' shine.

Yeah, more Carl.  Blame Diana.  She asked loudest.  My new 
books on forensic science didn't hurt either. :-)

Feedback would be lovely.  Syn_tax6@yahoo.com

afearedofthesequel!syn